Dreams of Colour
by morikoto
Summary: AU. NH. Somehow, she had decided to accept him for who he was, flaws included, and he could not for the life of him figure out why.


**Disclaimer:** Characters do not belong to me.

Note: An AU fluff-filled, cheese-filled story. Language and adult themes included. Be warned. But otherwise, please enjoy :) (Also, I like to abuse my use of parentheses).

* * *

Here are the facts:

It is a fact that her mother died giving birth to Hanabi, the smile still left hanging on her face as she held on long enough to stroke her newborn daughter's cheek before her hand fell limp. It is a fact that Hinata, who has always been a wallflower (hiding in shadows and behind the curtains of her fringe) became even more so when Hanabi bloomed to become more talented, more self-asserted and confident than she ever will be in her lifetime.

She has always been living with facts, but secretly, sometime during the stillness of the night when the moon cast milky slivers of light in her room, she would dream of another life. One so vibrant and drenched with colour it would stun her for a minute, before she is pulled back to reality and suddenly the colours are nothing but ridiculous and garish.

It is this thought which stops her from running after him, stopping her from pulling him back and kissing him so hard that it takes them a few minutes before they catch their breath and grin at each other, like two kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

You see, Hinata has always been one to stick with rules, regulations and _facts_. It is a fact that as a Hyuuga she should not settle for someone 'below her status' (and most definitely not _him_ – with his sunshine hair, guitar and music so alive, it runs and courses through her veins – a drug).

It is a fact that she is a disappointment.

(_weak_, they scoff, unable to understand how easily she wears her heart on her sleeve)

But it will not change the fact that she had fallen head over heels for _him_.

* * *

Hinata was not naïve – she knew that romance was not what it was like in the movies, with flower petals falling and some sweet indie music playing in the background as she made eye contact the love of her life for the first time.

What she did not expect however was to meet him in a local café, with his eyes bulging, face flushed a scarlet red, vein pulsing from his neck as he cursed a string of colourful words at some 'greasy bastard' who had the nerve to plagiarise the lyrics of his new song.

The few people in the café could only look on in silent horror as the verbal fight slowly escalated into a physical one, forcing the head barista and the rest of the staff to intervene, holding the two men back as they attempted to land blows on one another whilst shouting insults at the top of their voices.

This is when Hinata (yes, Hinata the usual trouble avoider, who incidentally was in a rare and extremely foul mood after being scorned and reminded of her endless shortcomings by her father for the previous hour) stepped in, narrowly avoiding one of their fists and in direct line of _his_ spittle as he spluttered and cursed.

So much for first impressions.

(though later, when things had calmed down, and his face resumed to its normal shade of tan, she would notice that he was quite – scratch that, he was _very_ attractive in a boyish manner – especially those clear, cerulean blue eyes which made her feel ashamed of her dull, opaque ones)

"Sir, I believe you are infringing the copyright entitlements of my client – an offence which I will happily press charges against if you don't _shut up now_"

The two men instantly drop their verbal attack, and _he_ can only stare in wonder at this five foot two woman with indigo coloured hair and petite build, as she sizes herself up and glares angrily at the 'greasy bastard' before spinning around to face him with those big lilac eyes of her – oh god.

"You do have your copyright certificate here?" she snaps at him whilst he nods dumbly, handing her the official papers which she thrusts into the 'greasy bastard's face.

Said bastard only snorted at it, eyeing the childlike features of her face – her button nose, the faint blush of nervousness slowly creeping up her face as the adrenalin and initial confidence wore off, and her expensive-looking dress suit.

"Look sweetbuns, we don't have time for this lawyer shit of yours, so why don't you take your play somewhere else?" he drawled with a saccharine smile, which only caused her to flush a deeper shade of red, though not because of embarrassment this time.

(later, _he_ would swear to her that he had heard something audibly pop that time, and she would laugh – the unrestricted, from-the-heart laughter which left him slightly dazed, and he would swoop in and kiss her, his lips against her smile)

"Well this _lawyer shit_ is about to get real if you don't agree to a compensation to my client – I will have no choice but to take this to my senior partner because we from Hyuuga Lawyers don't enjoy getting our name dragged through the mud" she hisses, eyes slanting before shoving a glossy business card in the bastard's face, relishing the look of panic which spread across his face as he recognised the formidable name of the most respected lawyer firm in town.

His adams apple bobs up and down nervously as he runs a hand through his straggly, greasy mop of hair.

"Look man, I didn't mean to take your rhythms – just thought that some bits were too sweet to lay to dust and not see the sunlight ever, if you know what I mean" he said, sneering at _him_ who quickly flushed to his previous red.

With that, the two men were at it again for the next half hour before the police arrived and Hinata had to explain the situation, sorting out the legality issues until the 'greasy bastard' finally threw a cheque on the table, storming angrily out of the now empty café.

It took another half hour for the police to clear up the issue between _him _and the head barista who was furious about the disruption caused, before she finally found herself outside in the frigid winter air with him, their breaths coming out in faint wisps of white in the velvet of the night.

"You," he said, grasping her by the shoulders, which forces her to look into those blue eyes which twinkle faintly under the dim flicker of the street lights,

"are _fucking awesome_" he finishes with a smile so bright like nothing she'd seen before, it tightens her throat and she feels a warm glow spread and consume her.

"Y-you're wel- " she sneezes.

She _sneezes_. Halfway through her (stuttering) you're welcome. And it's not even one of those polite, acceptable sneezes, but one of those horribly loud disgusting ones you get just before you get a cold.

_Oh my god_.

She cringes inside but he's already laughing until tears escape from the corner of his eyes and the sound echoes through the empty streets.

"You really are awesome", he gasps in between hiccups of laughter, causing her to flush a bright red which thankfully went unnoticed in the dark.

Suddenly, she feels something heavy drape across her shoulders, and the smell of miso ramen, fresh grass and sun envelop her. She looks up to find him without his coat, leaving him with just a thin shirt which did nothing to protect him from the cold December air.

"B-but you'll get sick! I'm fine" she insists, removing the coat from her shoulders before she is stopped by him.

"Hey, I'm a tough guy who can handle a bit of cold," he says with a grin (though the goose bumps which were starting to form on his skin would say otherwise), "and plus, this is just a small thank you for saving my sorry ass from before".

Before she can protest further, he had stuck his hand out in front of her, "By the way, I'm Naruto. Uzumaki Naruto".

She takes his hand gingerly and she feels a spark, hot and electric, run through her as his palm, warm and calloused from years of guitar practice, cover hers.

(even now, she will remember this night she met him, silent and bitter cold, with nothing but the sprinkle of stars above and faint dim of street lamps to illuminate the blanket of black encasing the sleeping town of Konoha)

"Hyuuga. Hyuuga Hinata"

He flashes her another trademark smile.

And she knows she is gone.

0

0

"So, you're a lawyer huh" he wonders out loud, slowly stirring the ice in the lemon tea he had ordered.

They are sitting in a corner of a bustling ramen restaurant the next day. How she had come to find herself in this situation she could hardly remember. Last night's events were all but an almost hazy memory where she faintly remembers him insisting that he walked her back to her apartment ("There are some shifty people at this hour" he had said as they walked along the quiet streets, eyes narrowing slightly as if expecting someone to jump out and attack them as they turned the corner), the slight awkwardness as they stopped outside her apartment block, and the way his ears had turned a slight pink when he asked if they could meet up tomorrow for dinner ("My treat, as a thanks for today" he had grinned).

Which is how she found herself hurriedly stuffing her laptop and paperwork into her briefcase after work, before rushing off to the restaurant which he claimed to serve the 'best ramen _ever_'.

He was already sitting on a booth when she arrived, his face lighting up as he enthusiastically waved her over and patted at the empty spot next to him. She had felt her face heat up and her stomach twist as he leaned in to recommend the miso ramen from the menu she was holding, allowing her to breathe in that all too familiar scent of his.

Here she was, knowing the guy for barely a day and she had already developed some twisted habit of sniffing him. Splendid.

"No, I'm just working as a paralegal actually" she replies stiffly, expecting the usual look of surprise and barely hidden smirk which appears as people learn that she, the daughter of the founder and prominent senior partner for Hyuuga Lawyers, was not even an associate in the firm.

What she did not expect however, was the following reaction:

"What's a para-whatchacallit?" he asked, wrinkling his nose at the bottle of spices he was examining before pouring a heap into the steaming bowl of tonkatsu ramen in front of him.

She stared at him, dumbfounded for a while as he happy slurped up the ramen before she realised that he had posed this as a serious question.

"Well, we research on cases and we provide the information and support which is needed for cases… I guess" she finished lamely when she saw that most of his concentration was trained on consuming the ramen in front of him at an alarming speed.

"So you guys are almost like detectives? Minus the tweed and Sherlock Holmes thing?" he questions with his mouth fall, waving his chopsticks around expressively.

"Um, I guess so?"

"That's awesome! But wait, if you're a para-watchacallit then how come you lawyered the shit out of that greasy bastard?" he asks, frowning in disappointment at the last few straggly pieces of ramen floating in his bowl.

She blushes. "W-well, technically I couldn't have taken him to court but he didn't need to know that" she says defensively, taking her first bite of the miso ramen.

_Damn_, it really was the 'best ramen ever'.

She startles when he lets out a roar of laughter, causing the people in the restaurant to stare at him and the owner to say disapprovingly, "Naruto, try to control yourself".

"S-sorry old man" he manages in between chuckles before turning back to Hinata (who had never been used to being the centre of attention and thus, was now flushed a crimson red).

"You're funny, I like that" he says with _that_ grin.

She flushes a darker shade of red if even possible, and she pushes her bowl of ramen to him, barely registering his "Really? Sweet! Thanks Hinata, you're the best!".

He thought she was funny. _Funny_. Throughout her life she had been known as many things: shy, unsure, nice, quiet, boring, and a disappointment. She was not quick witted and spirited like Hanabi, who was able to twist and turn her way until she could turn the situation around into something to her favour, nor was she a calm-headed, collected genius like Neji who had a fast growing list of credentials and records of cases he had won without so much as breaking a sweat.

She was not a _Hyuuga_ – a true one anyway, in the eyes of her father and the elders.

She was a disappointment.

But funny? That was a first.

Once again she feels that warm glow spread like whiskey inside her.

"You know what, I think we're going to be good friends" he says, beaming at her with his mouth full of miso ramen.

And she smiles back at him – a genuine smile.

(one which she can't remember the last time she used but with him, just came so naturally)

0

0

He never expected to fall for her, to be honest.

It wasn't because she was unattractive (far, _far_ from it), or the fact that she had a bad personality (she was one of the best people he knew – right up there with his foster father, Iruka).

It was because he had always had a _type_. His past (extensive) history of fleeting crushes and short-term girlfriends had always consisted of brash, loud and fun-spirited girls – in other words, girls who were quite similar to him in personality (this included the extreme stubbornness and hot temper, which probably explained why none of his romances had never lasted too long, and had always ended in dramatic break-up fights with his then current girlfriend).

So he didn't think too much about it when he scribbled down the directions to the bar he played at down on a napkin for her, didn't think too much about it when he felt relief flare inside him when he spotted her in the small crowd he was performing to the next night, didn't think too much about it when their dinners at Ichiraku became a weekly thing despite the fact that neither one of them had verbalised this arrangement.

With Hinata, he was learning – like the fact that he actually had a mean, green thumb (even though he was a bit dubious and reluctant at first when she asked him to join her for this gardening class), or that he could enjoy cuisine which did not include ramen. With Hinata, he was slowly changing.

And it was good.

For the first time he found that it was okay to feel lonely when nothing but the ghost of moonlight haunted his apartment, because she would surely be there at the end of the line when he picked up the phone to call – and that itself, was not being needy like his ex-girlfriends had described it. For the first time he found silence to be a comfortable companion when he was with a girl – that there was no need to fill it with needless chatter so that he could prove himself _worthy_.

Somehow, she had decided to accept him for who he was, flaws included, and he could not for the life of him figure out why. But he decided to accept the unexpected.

However, it wasn't until now – when she is sitting beside him, head perched on her hand with a faraway look on her face, untied hair sweeping across her shoulders, as she listens to him composing a new song – that it hits him.

That this multitude of emotions he had wasn't platonic. That the quiet shock he feels when her hand accidentally grazes against his wasn't hormonal.

That the unexpected had somehow, along the road of their friendship, became the _expected_.

That he loves her (had probably loved her for a while now).

However, if there was one thing which hadn't really changed, it was his rashness.

So he stops strumming his guitar, much to her obliviousness, and she is only brought back from her daydreams when she feels his calloused thumb sweep across her cheek, his eyelashes against her cheek and chapped lips on hers.

(and then she thinks that maybe she hadn't really stopped dreaming)

0

0

Up to date, Hinata had only dated two men – both whom were equally, if not more introverted and reclusive than her. She had only gone on one or two dates with them (mostly because of her sister's urging and her father's not so subtle hints that it was perhaps _time_ to settle down with a suitable suitor who could contribute to the family business). The said dates had been filled with awkward silences, awkward small talk and awkward good night pecks.

In short, her dating history had been a disaster.

(though it was most probably due to the fact that she had not held any sort of attraction for the two men)

So it was a sort of exhilarating thrill to her every time she felt a tingling down her spine when he kisses her – _actual_ kisses – and that such mere contact could fill her with a new type of warmth.

If her world was in black and white before, it was now in shades of colours she had only dreamed of during those nights in her room. But, like those nights, there was always a sense of apprehension which settles like poison at the back of her mind.

Especially at times like this, when he is sleeping beside her, and despite the fact that their legs are tangled in a mess and that he had drawn her so close to his bare chest that she could hear every beat of his heart, she feels like he is worlds away.

Because she had learnt that there is no such thing as a forever sort of happiness (she had learnt all too well from her father, who had watched helplessly as it slipped away from him time and time again).

Because after all, all good things, like they say, must come to an end.

0

0

"So this is it?"

She refuses to meet his gaze, refuses to see the pain on his face because it will all but destroy her resolve.

"You know I don't have a choice, my father - "

"You know it has nothing to do with him"

They both know.

(cowardice – because she was weak, because of her inability to say no when it came to demands)

He looks tired as he stares out the window of the café where they first met, fingers drumming to a rhythm she does not hear.

"Will you be happy with him?" he asks evenly (except she knows him too well after all this time, and she hears the faint strain in his voice).

"I don't know"

And she doesn't. Because she had only met him once, when her father had introduced him to her over dinner and over the course of their main meal she had learnt three things:

1. His name

2. That he would be taking her father's place in the firm, with 'her alongside supporting him'

3. That she should – _must_ – not waste anymore of her time with _that boy_

A silence, filled with unsaid words, requests, and _don't go_ settles between them, and she isn't surprised when he gets up, face dark, and leaves without a word.

She forces herself to breathe evenly, to concentrate on the white tautness of her clenched hands and the dim clutter of noise in the cafe as she refrains from getting up and running after him – to pull him back, to tell him that _it shouldn't be like this_ because she _didn't want this to happen_.

But she is weak – a coward – and she could only stare at his back through the window and the way the sunlight glinted in his hair, lighting it a brilliant shade of golden yellow, before he disappeared into the crowd.

And once again, she feels her world seeping, dulling tones and hues until nothing but black and white was left.

* * *

They meet again on an autumn afternoon, when the leaves were turning colour and paving pathways a crimson red.

He looks the same after two years – hair a bit longer perhaps, and a more composed air about him, compared to the energetic restlessness he had before.

She had came back from a year and half long business trip and decided that a walk in the crisp afternoon air was what she needed after a twenty four hour flight on a plane (sleep could come later). The streets of her hometown had brought back waves of nostalgia which she had tried hard not to explore over the past two years, and somehow, her feet had subconsciously brought her to the very place which she had been adamantly avoiding.

She isn't sure what she was expecting to find (because it was filled with nothing but bittersweet memories and a vivid reminder of her mistake).

But she was most definitely, not expecting to find him.

She spies the familiar mop of unkempt hair first, and feels her heart leap to her throat. Feels her breath shorten and quicken.

Her mind is telling her to _get the hell out of there_ but she is rooted to the spot when she sees his face and freezes when she meets his eyes.

She thinks she sees shock and something else fleet across his face before he waves a small greeting at her, motioning that he should join his table.

_She's not ready for this_ (especially when there are bags under her eyes, a slow throbbing in her head from sleep deprivation, and when she still hasn't sorted out her tangle of thoughts and emotions which concern him) but nonetheless she finds herself walking inside the café, the bell tinkling in greeting, and she tries to not feel the pain which creeps inside her as he offers her a smile which is all too forced.

They make small talk like strangers.

"How have you been?"

"Fine,"

(a lie)

"and yourself?"

"I've been alright"

(she hopes – had always been hoping that he has)

They smile awkwardly, sip their coffee, exchange snippets of their life whilst cautiously skirting around what had been left unsaid.

"I've stopped performing actually – decided to open up a recording studio instead and focus more on composing"

"Oh", she says in surprise (except she wasn't really because she had recognised his songs on the radio – sung by someone different, but the lyrics, rhythm and melody were just so _him_).

"And what have you been up to?"

His eyes flick towards her leather gloved hands, an action which did not go unnoticed by her.

There is a pause which follows and she can feel the past sweep them and fill the space between them.

"I've been travelling" she says carefully.

An 'oh' and look of hesitation followed and they lapse into silence.

She wants to tell him.

_Needs _to tell him.

_But what if?_

_Don't make the same mistake._

_But what if…?_

_Don't._

_Don't go_.

_Don't go_.

_**Don't go**_**.**

"I didn't do it"

He starts at her sudden outburst, and looks at her quizzically until she slowly removes the glove on her left hand, which is ring free.

"My father was against it at first and we had the biggest fight – I don't think I've seen someone turn that red before, _vermillion red_ – oh, maybe except for you – anyway it wasn't until Neji stepped in that he decided to give me a chance, so I decided to study and take the bar test, which was hard as _hell_ by the way – I really don't understand why they need to make it so _damn_ _difficult_, but I did manage to pass it so I moved on from being a paralegal and now I'm working as an associate at the firm, and I'm actually doing pretty well which made my father shut up, thank god, and it's been decided I will eventually fill in my father's position along with Neji, which means that I don't have to marry some handpicked brainless _idiot_ and even if he does insist, there is _no way_ that I'll say yes because I'm not going to make the same mist- "

She stops short, horrified by her mindless, one-breath babbling and for bringing up a topic that the two had fervently avoided.

She expects him to get up and leave like last time. Or get angry at her. Or tell her that what's over _is over_ and that he's happily married to a girl he met. Or that –

She jumps in her seat when he bursts out laughing – something she had not heard in a while, and leaves her stunned so that she can only watch dumbly as his laugh increases two fold and he's clutching the side of his stomach.

"You – you really are funny" he gasps.

A sense of déjà vu washes over her, and she feels a nowadays, very rare blush creep to her cheeks.

It was as if time had rewound, as if the past two years had not happened and she was still the twenty two year old who was very much in love with this boy – this man with a sunshine smile, sunshine hair and could hum melodies which would be stuck in her mind for days.

As it turns out however, time changes things and she is now twenty four, on her way to becoming a capable lawyer, was no longer _afraid_, was no longer unsure about what she wanted and need, and would go to _hell and back_ in order have them.

(but still in love with the same man)

As it also turns out, one thing which time did not change was the head barista's temper and 'no fucking disruptions in my café' policy, which he gladly enforced by kicking the two out because Naruto's guffaws were making head turns in annoyance.

Once again she finds herself in the cold, star filled night with him, unsure and anxious about what will come next as he sobered up and quietened – fixing his gaze on her with those eyes in a shade of blue she had been so afraid she would forget.

She knows it's time for a final goodbye, and she can feel herself choking up.

But she is a Hyuuga and they stick to _facts_. And it is a fact that she did not deserve him because it was her weak resolve and her which decided to end this – that it was for the best.

So she steels herself and fumbles out an excuse about needing to go, turning to leave –

– before she is suddenly pulled back, finding herself enveloped in an all too familiar scent and embrace.

She feels him nuzzle her neck, feels the warmth she had long tried to forget spark inside her, and his lips mouth '_finally_' against the shell of her ear.

(later she will learn that he had tried to find her after what happened, except she had changed her number and moved apartments, so he could only come to the café on a semi-regular basis in the hopes that he would bump into her – _stalkerish huh_ he had snorted, and she could only kiss him in response)

She wraps her arms around his waist and pulls him closer, telling herself that this was _real_, that he was really here.

_Finally_.

(and perhaps it was time she allowed herself to dream in colour)

**-end-**

* * *

Considering a sorta sequel/epilogue to this (you'll see what I mean), but only when I have the time to do so. Anyways, hope you guys liked it! -morikoto-


End file.
